The Night

In the darkened night, I prowl my kitchen

like a cat, half unseen

lurking in the shadows. They call me a 

cat. But I metamorphose into

butterflies in the morning..

The night is all we have - creatures

of the dark, unite. My Vodka comes

to an end, and my song. The 

pencil lead is weary - I write all

my lyrics. My glass is empty.

She was there a moment ago, red

roses trickling down her cheeks. And many

cigarette butts later I still see her,

white robed, luscious, my passion overflows.

We have bought the night. Together. Uncanny

instincts galore.

I see the Sun, sneaking up behind the 

trees. Smell the fresh leaves. My Vodka

is done - always true to me. She will

come back, different shapes, I know. And

little windows flutter in the breeze. Sometimes

we dream. My Vodka glass overflows.